Yasmin could hear the ork's footsteps, for he was not a light walker--and it seemed they were getting closer. Grasping Herrick's hand, she hauled herself out of bed and onto her feet, landing lightly on her good leg.
"Ah, good to hear!" she said with a grin that didn't reach her eyes, and released his hand. "Because we may well have to run."
Her scimitar was gone, likely returned to her cell, and it made her feel naked right then. Facing an ork in the arena, armed, was one thing. Being chased by one, unarmed, through the infirmary was another. Worse than that, though, was the fact that she couldn't do harm outside the arena, anyway. Not even in self-defense. If she did, it could easily be held against her, and she could be held accountable.
"And you, my dear," she added, looking at Herrick as she began to fall into a limping jog, "should probably leave, before my master catches me talking to you."